


A Place to Heal

by OneofWebs



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Break Up, Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Memories, Minor Violence, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: It had been a battle, they'd won, and not the war. The war was a bigger picture they were only just beginning to see, but Markus was alone this time. This time, he was lost.Check Out My Tumblr If You Want To See More





	A Place to Heal

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes so um. I've had this idea spinning around in my head for a few days, glad I finally sat down to right it. I did cry while I wrote it, so that's new and interesting information. But! I've got actual real happy fics in the works too, so maybe hold on a little while longer for me.
> 
> Shout out to my Markus/Simon discord server for being so supportive and giving me the motivation to write!

Things should have never been the way they were: won, done, and forgotten. Freedom left a foreign taste on Markus' mouth, even as he had worked so hard to get it; it was not so cut and dry. It was a victory, a victory he shared alone, and that had been all it was. Step one in a fight long drawn out and long on going, because he still saw the way the humans treated each other—it would be a wild ask for them to treat Androids any different. But, he had hoped. They had all hoped that freedom would mean something, and even when it didn't, that it could. Only, the fighting hadn't ended, it was just less violent. Less obvious. There were subtle little ways the humans made their dislike known, while others accepted changes gladly, groups had sprung up all over the country. They defended their hate with their free speech, and spat where Androids walked.

Markus had never felt so lost.

North had sought to fight violence with violence, and Markus had tried never to walk that route. But still, he had held her hand and felt so much love burst forth, his body seemed to collapse on itself. He still remembered that feeling, still clung to it like it was a story long not over, but it was dead. North had moved on, because she'd gotten what she wanted. The first stand for freedom had been much less a march and more so a massacre. Countless Androids had died, and they were only but one baby step closer to their goal. North saw that as failure. Saw failure in Markus, and had held his hand one last time before she said goodbye. There would always be a place in her heart, she had told him, for him. Because he remembered the way her voice rang out like a lullaby and made him warm. Just as there would always be a place for North, with him. But they had pulled apart and took one step back, forward. To the cause, away from each other.

Markus had never been so alone.

Alone, as he had been sitting against a wall, atop a box not a night or two later. Jericho was cold and hard, but it was home. Not quite home like Carl, but a new ship that Markus didn't fear shutting his eyes and thinking long and hard about the situation they faced. Androids were dying. Humans were dying. He wanted peace, and peace had never come so freely. Then, so freely as it were, North had decided what they were both too afraid to say. This wasn't working, and there were bigger things ahead of them. Things with reason, things with cause, and Markus sat alone, on that box, with his head pressed against the cool walls of an empty ship.

Until, he hadn't, and there was a rustling of clothes and boxes as someone else sat down. Gentle. Safe. Markus didn't feel the jolt of fear that he might have if he didn't know, and kept his eyes closed as a hand reached out and pressed against his shoulder. There was silence for a long time, after that. Longer than Markus cared to know, but perhaps shorter than he remembered. And, somewhere in that silence, he had found the courage he needed to look away from the dying blame of his people, and open his eyes instead. Jericho was dark, but he knew the hand on his shoulder without shifting around.

"Markus," and the voice, too. Soft, with just a twinge of something foreign. They were all programmed to talk that way, the voice hard wired into their skulls, but Simon was different. Simon had always been a little different, and Markus turned to look at him after that.

He remembered leaving Simon on that rooftop. He remembered seeing his friend, terrified of death and shaking with fear, with pain, with something. The lost mist of his eyes when Markus decided that he wouldn't just kill Simon, like it was some sort of holier than thou decision. Something that made him greater, but Simon looked a little less scared with Markus' hand on his shoulder. Markus remembered that as well. But, he remembered seeing Simon again. Remembered the rush through his veins, and thought maybe it was a left over shock from North, the way her hand had felt on his. But it had prompted Markus to all but rush forward, and he grabbed Simon and held him for longer than he remembered, shorter than he care to knew. He should have held Simon forever.

In that moment, though, on top the boxes with Simon touching his shoulder so gently, Markus felt the world shift a little sweeter, and he smiled. Androids had died. Humans had died. But, Markus had managed something, in the scheme of things. He had managed to protect those closest to him, and the grip was so familiar. The same grip which had almost kept him away from the SWAT team, at that march. That had almost kept him back, but the world needed to see that he would die for this cause, and he hadn't. Simon, in that moment, without a word, told him that he would never have to.

"It's not your fault, Markus," Simon continued, and Markus let his eyes close and his head slump back against the walls of Jericho. "You're doing all you can for our people."

Markus felt possessed when he reached up to grab Simon's hand, to rest his own there and squeeze like a lifeline. Simon didn't react. He didn't move, he didn't breathe, may not have even blinked. Instead, he leaned, and Markus felt the bump on the wall through vibrations and smiled. He didn't have to open his eyes to see the scene, their hands clasped on his shoulder, and Simon leaning near him, near enough that he could feel every manufactured breath, and smiling too. Eyes closed.

He should have seen the signs; he knew that now. Simon had said it all, and he spoke so little.

Instead, Simon had taken to resting on Markus' shoulder, not the wall, next time they met in this little alcove. It had been a time, and in this raw state, all they could do was stare at each other. Simon had always looked so lost, Markus remembered, like he wasn't quite sure where he fit into the picture. His thoughts were passive, at best, and his body was weak. North was strong, and ready to fight. Josh could speak, Josh had ideals, and was ready to talk. Simon had just been there, and maybe it was just to keep the two from fighting. Markus thought Simon had a place, anyway, even if Simon didn't see it.

"North told us," he said, quietly.

Markus could've laughed, but instead, he just breathed, "It's better this way. It was mutual," he explained, like it made the hurt go away. Like the burn of Simon's hand on his was any less.

But, Simon shook his head, "You don't have to be strong all the time," and he peeked a glance. "The Revolution can wait five minutes." He almost smiled, if Simon could have ever, really smiled. Markus did, wide enough for the both of them, and couldn't bring himself to feel bad when he pulled his hand away and wrapped it around Simon's shoulders. Maybe his expressions were bad, but Simon was warm, and his eyes were bright.

They did, however, feel bad. North never glanced, never said a word, but it felt wrong. It had been mere days, and to turn blind so fast was an injustice to the way North smiled. Even worse to the way he thought Simon one day would. So, they didn't so much touch, after that, because it felt heavy and strange. Something Markus wasn't allowed until he fought for their people, proved that he would fight and that he would win. Something Simon wouldn't allow himself, because he had no place at Jericho.

Markus looked back on it, and it was heavy where it shouldn't be. If the time had been right, he surely would've known. Surely would've seen it coming, but he'd never been quite as perceptive as he liked, as much as the quiet observer he'd always tried to be. Speaking out had been his calling, to stand into the middle and to shout. When all eyes were on him, he found it harder to look around himself, to see the eyes that looked back. If he had, he would've noticed, and he cursed himself. Simon's eyes were bright with wonder, but they were dull with something the likes of which Markus had never seen. He'd already said it all, after all. Markus just hadn't been listening.

So, instead came a time where there would be no turning back. They would not sit idly by and watch the Androids fight for their freedom. The humans. It, perhaps, wasn't in their nature to find equal ground with anyone who wasn't quite the same. Markus remembered well, because it helped him feel at ease, that the humans had fired the first shot. Defense, was all it was after that. They were simply defending themselves from a pack of wild beasts that would seem them dead than happy. In that same vain, he remembered heavily the feel of a gun in his hand, and what it meant. If he could do it all again, he would. But, North had smiled, and she looked so at home. Not so much justice, anymore, but vengeance, and the world would see the plight of Androids who died to defend themselves, and their dignity, and Markus was beginning to think that North was alright with that. Alright with death, and he wished he could be so strong. Still, a hand.

"Markus," Simon said, and that was all he needed to say. Markus loved the sound of his voice in his ears, and he wished it had stopped ringing.

Markus had never felt so lost, now that he stood there, alone, with his hands scrunched up in his coat. North was gone, off to find her own way in a world where Androids were not bound to any master, and humans were left just wary enough to leave the lot of them be. Save the groups, which were hiding under the very values America laid before them, the very values which should have brought them closer together. Josh was doing what he did best. Speaking, working, talking. Diligent and wise, with always the right thing on his tongue, and Markus wished he could hear it again. Hear the right thing, the thing that needed to be said to keep him going. Josh and North hadn't lost much, after they'd lost it all.

Markus was alone. His fingers gripped into his coat, into his skin, he could feel it beneath _beating_ with mockery, and it hurt. It burned, and his blood boiled. He thought back to the loss of Jericho, what had been his second home, and how he had come flitting back here that first time. Lost, helpless. Simon waiting at the edge of the driveway, because it was dangerous for Markus to go anywhere alone. If only things had been different, because all that remained of Carl was a rock that said his name, and it wasn't him. It would never be him, and even in memory, Markus couldn't find the words that Carl would have told him to make things alright.

"I feel so lost," he finally found the words to say, and his voice cracked. His knees buckled, and he hit the snow covered ground beneath in a wave of regret. Tears, prickling at his fingers swiped over a name. Simon wasn't waiting at the gate this time, because they were free; it wasn't dangerous for Markus to wander the streets. And, there was no heaven, for Androids, he figured.

"We've finally made progress, but what's it worth if I'm here to enjoy it alone? It doesn't seem like I did enough—like I, was enough," Markus was struggling to hold his breath. Wished he could let it go, but that would've been cruel.

"I should've died for our cause, if that's what it took. The three of you could've figured something out, I know you could…" or they would've gone back into hiding. North would've hated herself, and confidence looked so much better on her. Josh, slowly driven mad by the isolation when all he wanted was to make the people understand. And Simon.

Markus traced the letters again, each one slower than the last, until the final curve threatened to make his heart break. But it wasn't his heart to break, and that was what kept him standing in darkest hours of lonely days. Days where he had freedom, but stood alone at it's precipice, and wondered well what it would've been like to turn around.

Simon; d. 2038.

A mockery of a grave, a mockery of a funeral, and the mockery of family. Only left, a lost and desperate man who had been so distraught at the death of his friend—of someone more—that he had gone back in search of his body and done this. After a bout of hubris, and all the repairs in the world wouldn't have brought him back, he buried Simon right next to Carl. Thought back in pretend that they had kissed instead of holding hands, that they had laid together instead of standing up to fight. That Simon would've let him die for his own cause.

Markus had always thought Simon had a place with them. Simon had always thought he had a place with Markus.

"It should've been me," his voice was nothing but a whisper, and he pressed his forehead into the gravestone and cried.

His heart beat on, pumped on, in a rhythm that wasn't his, and only sang of love.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [Check Out My Tumblr If You Want To See More](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)  
> 


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